


Small Things, or: Drabbles Between Boys

by canis_lupus_nubilus



Category: Power Rangers Dino Charge
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-01-24 07:02:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18566329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canis_lupus_nubilus/pseuds/canis_lupus_nubilus
Summary: A series of ten romantic, chronological drabbles about two very special boys. Uploaded periodically as completed. As these are drabbles, they are meant to be short, sweet, and somewhat cathartic.





	1. Names

**Title:** Small Things  
**Author:** canis_lupus_nubilus  
**Series:** _Power Rangers Dino Charge_  
**Chapter:** One of Ten  
**Genre:** Romance/Fluff/Angst  
**Pairings:** Chase/Riley  
**Warnings:** Boy-love. Don’t like, don’t read.

* * *

“Remember when I said there was nothing we should keep from one another?”

_Shit._

“Yeah.”

“I take it back.”

He deserves that, probably. How is it that even the most innocuous, most innocent things can be such a cause for controversy coming from Chase’s mouth? Riley’s face reads like an open book — one that happens to have spotted a hundred or so red flags. This ought to be the point of retreat, but if there’s one thing Chase Randall doesn’t do, it’s retreat; and if there’s a second thing Chase Randall doesn’t do, it starts with an “s” and rhymes with “blame” and it’s _shame_.

“Don’t make that face.” Chase’s fingers search through the basket of fries between them — which, not auspiciously, smell just a little _off_ today —and pull out one, two, three. “It’s not like I’ve gone and killed anyone.”

“When you asked if we could use pet names,” Riley begins, somewhere between amused and weary, “I proceeded under the impression that you were going to be reasonable.”

Chase looks back blankly — innocently! — and takes a long sip from his soda.

“That you were going to behave,” Riley adds, realizing too late that it had clearly been a big ask from the word _go_.

Chase tries another approach. He isn’t going to give up that easily. “You get one veto.” He lowers his voice deliberately. “But be warned: I’m not above thinking up something worse, Riles.”

“This is Hell.” Riley snorts, looking up at the ceiling, then back down at the beautiful boy across from him. “This is Hell, and this is my punishment.”

“I accepted yours, didn’t I? Being a bit unfair, mate.”

“ _Everyone_ calls you “hotshot,” Chase. I was being _cute_.”

“Mmhmm.” A suggestive little note of playfulness that Riley chooses to ignore.

“What about ‘Riles’? I thought you liked ‘Riles’. I do.”

“Are we bargaining now?” Chase asks, a boyish grin painting his face and lighting up his eyes. “Give you an extra veto for a pash.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Too boring anyway,” Chase replies, and Riley groans for what must be the thirtieth time since the onset of this conversation. “Gotta’ be more… _more_ , ya’ know? Needs more _oomph_.”

“No.” Riley shakes his head, rubs his temple. “ _Oomph_ is the one thing I don’t need in a nickname, Chase.”

“ _Pet_ name,” Chase amends, his grin by now a full-blown smile of self-satisfaction. “Nicknames are what friends give each other.”

“We are friends.”

But under the table Chase’s shoe has already touched softly the fleshy nubbin of Riley’s exposed calf. Riley flushes and leans back in his seat, determined to be the “adult” here and not let anyway in the café see him so very, very flustered by something as easy as a touch.

“Bit more than that.” Chase’s shoe falls away, lingers, comes back to tease unfairly. “Just a little bit?”

“I can take a lot of things,” Riley the Adult begins, eyelashes fluttering. “But being called ‘Rileykins’ is not one of those things in this lifetime.”

Chase deliberates for a moment, then graciously offers Riley a second choice: “How’s this, then? I could just call you my little peach ‘cause when I’ve got your arse like this,” demonstrating with both hands above the table, to Riley’s horror, “and give it a squeeze, it’s uncanny, looks just like one.”

“Veto,” Riley says maybe a little too forcefully.

“It does, to be fair.”

“ _Veto_ , Chase.”

“Fair is fair.” Chase crosses his arms defiantly. “Now come on, mate, be fair. If I’m your hotshot you’re my Rileykins. Gonna’ get my way on this one.”

He has; he will. Riley knew it the moment the other boy touched him. He sighs, exhausted of this beautiful boy across from him, of everything in him.

Rileykins. _Rileykins_. Well… it could be worse.

And besides, Riley thinks to himself, reaching for a fry: if it makes Chase smile like that… he supposes he can stand it.


	2. Nights

**Title:** Small Things  
**Author:** canis_lupus_nubilus  
**Series:** _Power Rangers Dino Charge_  
**Chapter:** Two of Ten

For warnings, etc., see part one.

* * *

It’s not likely you’ll see stars from Amber Beach. Too much light pollution — generally you’d have to escape well outside the city limits before you could spot even a twinkle. Except for one place: a tiny little corner of beach nestled just outside the city center; it stretches out toward the Pacific, and uninterrupted sky.

This is Riley’s favorite place, this strip of beach, the city far behind at his back.

And tonight, if he looks closely enough, he can just discern the twinkling of stars in the distant dark.

“See?” He nudges Chase’s ribs. “I told you we could see them from here, if we came out far enough.”

Of course Chase knew they could. Only he wanted to see the instant that infectious smile showed itself across Riley’s face. So he lets the other boy have this moment of satisfaction. It’s too cute to resist. Riley looks up at him, the salty wind running invisible fingers through his hair. Chase smiles back; his hand caresses the small of Riley’s back.

“Sure did,” he mutters, looking out.

“I love looking at the stars. It takes such an effort to see them out here.”

“Bet you did this a lot back home,” Chase says. “Plenty of night sky out there and nothing to block it out.”

“Oh, yeah, mom and Matt and I have this _big_ quilt, right? And we’d always find a nice spot outside, I mean the most _perfect_ spot, and lie down and look up and spend all night looking for constellations and stuff. Matt once told me when I was real little that if you look up at the moon at just the right moment you can see a hidden message written across its face. I believed him, too. One time I got him to tell me what it says, ‘cause I whined and pouted enough, but turns out it was really crude and dirty and mom overheard and got _really_ mad. Sure was a long time ago…”

Chase sniffles a bit of salty air; it burns his nostrils going in. “Think I’d like your brother.”

“You would, because you’re just as rude and crude as he is,” Riley answers, hiding unsuccessfully a chuckle under his breath.

“That why you like this spot so much? It reminds you of home?”

Riley kneels, takes a handful of sand. “I guess you could say that.” He watches as it slips like so much water past his fingers. “Just a little piece of home when you haven’t been home for so long.”

This gives Chase an idea, something that, until now, has never occurred to him.

“We’ll go visit then. Just the two of us. Together. You can introduce me to your mum.”

Riley stands up sharply straight and locks his eyes with Chase’s. At first he says nothing, as if waiting patiently for the punchline, for some kind of caveat.

This is the first time either boy has breached the subject of a family visit — of introducing the other as someone more than an acquaintance or even a close friend. Riley holds one hand in the other, gripping it.

“You sure?” he asks quietly.

“’Course I’m sure.” Chase leans close, offers a soft, reassuring kiss to Riley’s warm cheek. “Seeing as my family’s a bit far off from Amber Beach. Next best thing is meeting yours I reckon.”

But the silence between them brings Chase’s attention right back to the other boy. It takes a minute but, eventually, something clicks, and he gets there.

“Oh. _Oh_.”

Riley’s mouth opens, but Chase is first to qualify the silence with a name: “You haven’t told them.” A lethargic, heavy nod is the response he gets. “Hope it’s not cause you’re ashamed of me. I know I can be a handful sometimes but I like to think I can clean up if I need to—”

“No,” Riley quickly interjects. “No, no, it’s not that. I mean, you _are_ a handful, but I like it that way, I guess. Or maybe I’m just used to it by now. You could say the same thing about me… What I mean is: it’s not you. Chase, I haven’t told them about _any_ guys. Ever.”

Chase blinks. He looks at Riley curiously. “Not even once?”

“No, Chase.” Riley sighs. “Because there haven’t _been_ other guys. Not exactly a pool of potential beaus out on the farm.”

“That what you call me?” Chase asks through a grin. “A ‘beau’?”

“I call you charming at the best of times and infuriating at the worst.”

“But surely your mum and brother won’t mind,” Chase suggests, taking a seat in the sand and stretching out lazily. “They love you. Almost as much—” with two fingers he pulls Riley down to him, just enough so that their eyes meet, “—as I do.”

“They know you as ‘Chase,’ the boy with the hat, who works at the museum. They don’t know anything else beyond that.” Riley mimics Chase’s position, stretching out his legs and reaching down for another handful of cold, brittle sand. “I guess I always thought I _would_ tell them. But I’ve been here. And it’s not like we don’t have our hands full on any given day.”

“What with saving the world,” Chase says sympathetically.

Riley shrugs, falling backward, his head hitting a sandy cushion. “And so it just never occurred to me to tell them I’d met someone…” He asks, sheepishly: “You’re not angry, are you?”

Chase’s answer is simple. His face and voice are unreadable.

“We’ll tell them together.” Chase stares out at the billowing ocean. “We’ll go down, and we’ll tell them together.”

A hand clutches Riley’s, tight, communicating, and Riley looks up, counting stars.


	3. Arms

**Title:** Small Things  
**Author:** canis_lupus_nubilus  
**Series:** _Power Rangers Dino Charge_  
**Chapter:**  Three of Ten

For warnings, etc., see part one.

* * *

"Here." Chase's eyes, wide and unblinking, take in each scene from the large projection like food. " _Here_ , here's where he finds him."

He rubs his legs excitedly, adrenaline running through him. On screen, a lone and somewhat aimless young man wanders cautiously through an empty kitchen. From outside a nearby window, a bolt of lightning strikes, illuminating the surrounding shadows and sending a violent rumble through the theater that rides up past Chase's legs and lingers in his chest.

This is Chase's favorite place — a dark auditorium, a projector, and a nervous audience with which to watch a good slasher flick. It must be the sensation of suspense that he shares with the audience as the masked assailant lurches from behind a corner that was previously out of frame; how, together, everyone seems to feel the same thing: dread, anticipation, empathy, excitement — it all comes together like some intense religious experience. Ask Chase and he'll tell you directly: nothing like turning to the person next to you after a particularly surprising or gruesome kill and asking, "Did you  _see_ that?"

A quick flicker of blinding silver is all the audience sees before the knife comes down from out of the dark and into the poor (but handsome) teenager's jugular. To say this creates a bit of a mess would be generously kind.

Chase chews through a mouthful of popcorn as his pulse begins to settle down again. " _Did you see—"_

Except his boyfriend sure as stone did  _not_ see. Chase looks over, expecting another pair of wide eyes and gaping mouth to match his own; what he finds is a head of unruly hair buried and nestled anxiously into the crevice just between Chase's arm and his seat, hidden from sight.

Chase leans close, whispering, "Uh. Riley?" No response. Hmmm. "You alive?"

Barely — safe to say he made it as far as the kitchen scene, but definitely no further, before tucking his head away and closing his eyes. "No," he mutters plainly, the tremble in his voice giving him away.

Uh oh. "Riles?"

Chase feels his stomach churn, and not because of the movie. Crap. This was his idea, after all, his contribution to their date night, which had begun nicely with a filling dinner and, well, okay, maybe Chase should have taken more notice when Riley's only response to the suggestion had been a gulp, a chasm of silence, followed by, "You like scary movies?"

Which had frankly been all the go-ahead Chase had needed.

He quietly and rather guiltily files this under  _How to be a Better Boyfriend_ and runs a hand through his boyfriend's hair. "Want I should take us home? Not too much left of this one anyway. Don't have to stay if it's too scary for you, mate."

Riley's head gives a little shake of protest. "No," he says, steadying his voice with effort. "We can stay. You really wanted to see it—"

"Think I'll live," Chase replies, amused by the other boy's determination. "Can't say the same for you, though. Sure we can head back, you know that."

"I'll live." Riley adjusts his seating position but still refuses to come back up for air. "You keep watching the movie, Chase." A little sigh. "I'll hold down the fort down here."

Chase is genuinely touched. He takes a big breath, thinking. He gives Riley another reassuring pat on the head before lovingly, protectively, wrapping his arm close around Riley's neck.

He leans close again. "No worries, mate. Got me here to keep you close and safe. Any slasher fella' jumps out, leave him to me, yeah?"

A nuzzle into his side, which Chase takes to mean:  _Thank you._ He knows he'll have to make it up to Riley later, and fair enough — it's the least he can do.

Another jump scare is soon to come. The sudden tension that permeates throughout the audience predicts it. So Chase holds just a bit tighter, ready, letting Riley know. And letting him know he's safe.


	4. Mothers

**Title:** Small Things  
**Author:** canis_lupus_nubilus  
**Series:** _Power Rangers Dino Charge_  
**Chapter:**  Four of Ten

For warnings, etc., see part one.

* * *

"Remember: leave all the small talk to me, and don't feel like you need to answer every question she asks, don't feel intimidated if Matt tries to pry to decide if you're a 'keeper' or not, and, whatever happens, do  _not_ freak out," Riley whispers through his teeth, doing exactly that.

Chase touches Riley's shoulder, playing with the frayed, grey sweater fabric he finds there. He searches for something reassuring to say. "So, if she asks which one of us is 'the girl,' I don't say it's you, yeah? That the plan?"

Riley knows Chase is playing, knows Chase only wants to make him laugh and relax a little, but that doesn't stop Riley from tossing a sharp and somewhat plaintive glare in Chase's direction. _Of all the times to be joking around..._

"Chase, this is  _serious_." Riley hops lightly onto his toes, his face forming a distressed, disgruntled grimace. "It took everything in me just to make it to the front door." Which is where both boys stand, Riley's finger hovering precariously over the doorbell. Eventually, said finger drops dejectedly back to his side; he takes a breath. "It shouldn't be this hard..."

Chase shakes his head. "Don't think that's true." He continues only after Riley looks over at him and their eyes have met. "Even if you're sure your mum and bro will be keen on all this, there's gotta' be some fear still in you anyway. This is new, and big. It's fine to be afraid, mate. Nothing to be ashamed of."

"I'm sure they'll love you," Riley replies. "You're practically Captain America."

"Not even Captain... _another country_?" Chase wonders aloud, still making a fair effort to bring a smile or a laugh out of the other boy.

Riley ignores him, his mind elsewhere: "But this just feels like a...  _mountain_. Like a proverbial cocktail of every anxiety I've ever felt."

"You've got this." Chase's hand rests against Riley's back. He smiles. "Piece of piss."

Which even Riley, in this panicky state, can't resist laughing over, anxiety or no. "Right," he mutters, now feeling new fingers wrapping warmly like silk around his own. "Piece of piss."

"There's my Rileykins," Chase whispers, looking back to the front door.

The sound of his pet name elicits a small groan from Riley, a light flush. Chase gives his hand a squeeze. "Ready?" he asks.

A moment passes, and Riley waits, thinking, breathing, feeling Chase's touch that might will him to action. He inhales sharply. He presses the doorbell, hard.

He kisses quickly, meaningfully, the stubble of Chase's jaw.

"No." Footsteps. Someone on the other side of the door, approaching steadily. A wonderfully familiar maternal smile against the the glassy pane between the two of them. "Here we go."

 


	5. Picnic

**Title:** Small Things  
**Author:** canis_lupus_nubilus  
**Series:** _Power Rangers Dino Charge_  
**Chapter:** Five of Ten

For warnings, etc., see part one.

* * *

Only one day in, but Chase is finallyrealizing what Riley has been saying all this time about these little rural places. Sure, there aren’t any parks to skate in, and it hasn’t quite got the grandeur of Auckland’s Sky Tower, but looking out over the distant humpback hills of green, Chase feels like there’s something quaint about this place.

Not that that has stopped Riley from teasing him endlessly for being such a fish-out-of-water.

“I guess city boys don’t know everything after all,” Riley says, stepping into the darkness of the barn and inhaling the recognizable scent of hay and wet grass. The afternoon light from outside streams in, leaving behind pockets of shadow here and there. 

“When would I _ever_ need to pilot an ATV?” That’s all Chase can think of as far as retorts go; it pains him, really, because Riley’s right, and that cuts swiftly through Chase’s stubborn pride like a hot knife through butter. 

“You don’t pilot it.” Riley rummages in a corner, opening boxes and searching for the last thing they’ll need for their little picnic out. Riley knows just the place, and he’ll be the one behind the wheel today. “You drive it. Just like a scooter. Or a motorcycle. Out here we use it to get around faster – can’t get over hills like these in a car. You’d be stuck before you got a mile out.” 

Chase puts his hands on his hips, a sign of defeat for him if ever there was one. “No one likes a know-it-all. That’s what my sister says when I boss her around.”

“She does not, and you do not. If anything, _she_ bosses _you_ around,” Riley replies as he opens a final box – wooden and slightly forlorn-looking and stashed all lonesome in a corner – and motions Chase over with his hand. “Found it!” 

“Well your mum thinks so,” Chase mutters resignedly, looking over Riley’s shoulder. “More plaid? You’ve got enough up in your room by the looks of it, mate. All you farm boys and your plaid.”

Riley shakes his head. He reaches in and pulls out, with great effort, a lengthy quilt of red and white and dark blue squares. His voice trembles excitedly. He feels like a child opening a Christmas present after having waited so long to receive it. “This is it – this is the quilt. The one I was telling you about, remember?”

“I do,” Chase says, taking it from Riley and holding it in his arms; even folded up Chase can tell from the many, many folds that the thing must really be as massive as Riley described. “You weren’t lying. It’s a beast.” He smiles and raises his eyebrows mischievously. “Matt says you went and peed on this old thing when you were little.”

“Matt is just teasing, and you’re easily led,” Riley says. He leaves it to Chase to carry said beast out and tie it down to the back of the ATV, along with their lunch for the day: a hefty wicker basket full of snacks, fruit, and sandwich fixings. Once everything is properly secured, Chase steps aside, watching as Riley hops onto the ATV and slides as far forward as he can.

When Riley turns his body to double-check the restraints on their precious cargo, Chase is still watching him.

“What?”

“Thinking.”

Riley arches his eyebrows. “About?”

Chase says, not averting his eyes: “Wanna’ know what your mum asked me early this morning? Just as I was heading in for breakfast?”

“That depends,” Riley says. “How embarrassing was it, and will I regret asking you to share?”

Chase simply shrugs his shoulders, deliberately vague.

“Okay then.” Riley swings his right leg over so that he’s in a more comfortable seating position. He rests his hands in his lap. “Let me have it, hotshot.”

“Asked me if I slept well enough on the air mattress she gave me,” Chase begins, pausing significantly for effect, “or not.”

Riley can hear the weighted nuance in those last words: _or not_. And he knows his mother well enough to know when she’s really asking a completely different but much more suggestive question underneath the surface. 

And both boys know exactly what that question is: _did you sleep alone, or with my son?_

Riley groans, more than a little embarrassed, and looks at Chase with a guilty, helpless grimace. “She didn’t.”

“She did,” Chase says, smiling again, which is definitely not helping the feeling of unease growing in Riley’s chest. “She did, and I told her I slept better than I have in a long time. Wonder if she took my meaning or not. If she’s as sharp as I think she is, you can bet she did.”

“You have to understand,” Riley begins, fumbling for words. “She’s a bit… oh, I don’t know, what do you call her? Old-fashioned?”

“Traditional,” Chase offers as an alternative.

Riley continues: “Growing up, there was a rule in her house: a girl never slept in the same bed – let alone the same _room_ – as a boy. Not until they were married. You just… you just didn’t do it.”

Chase puts his hands into his pockets. He looks at Riley meaningfully. “Just think it’s really nice is all. Just last week, did you think we’d be having this talk? About your mum and your boyfriend and her ways of sneakily interrogating that boyfriend?” 

Riley shakes his head, grinning, a significant weight by now long since gone from his shoulders. “No,” he says, looking back at Chase. “I guess I didn’t.”

Neither needs to say anything more – they know, both of them: it’s more than either of them could have hoped for, even Chase who wore an outer shroud of confidence and support but secretly had his own concerns. Not just about their acceptance of Riley, but—

“Do they like me?”

The question isn’t playful; it is utterly genuine. Chase looks at Riley hopefully.

Riley crosses his arms. He bites his bottom lip. “They like your accent.” Then he smiles. “And I think they might like you a little bit, too.”

Chase sighs, finally moving toward the ATV and swinging his own leg over the seat. As Riley does the same, Chase inhales the mildew scent of the old quilt just behind him. Deep down, he feels incredible relief – _thank god they like me_.

No. More than that. Much more than that.

_Thank god they think I’m good enough for him._

Riley scoots back a bit, right into Chase’s embrace. Perhaps a little unfairly, he scoots his bottom just a little more deliberately backward, knowing exactly what it will bump into. A sharp intake of breath tells him he’s hit his target spot-on.

“Put your arms around me,” Riley tells him. “And don’t let go.”


End file.
